Beauty and the Beast
by Craft Rose
Summary: As punishment for his affiliation with the Dark Lord, Draco Malfoy is heinously tortured, to the point of complete and utter disfigurement. He is no longer an arrogant schoolboy. Instead he has chosen the life of a recluse, hiding away in the remains of Malfoy Manor. Everything changes when an Auror by the name of Hermione Granger pays him a visit one cold, dark night. *CH.11 EDIT*
1. Chapter 1

_Bellatrix pressed the tip of her wand against Hermione's cheek, releasing a piercing scream from the young girl and sending her into a whirlwind of pain. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced. Death was ever present, wearing the mask of one of Voldemort's most loyal followers. She couldn't see. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. _

_She didn't dare look to the left, where he stood. She'd seen it in his eyes. He knew what had to be done, but cowardice had no cure. Instead he watched her wriggle and writhe in pain. _

_Everything faded into blackness, until all she could hear was Bellatrix Lestrange's maniacal laughter. The world grew smaller and smaller, along with the hopes of being saved from this torture._

Hermione jolted upright, gasping as a pot of ink spilled over her desk. She took a glance around the dimly lit room and realized she was still in her office, at work. Her life had become work. She was only twenty-two years old and any form of a social life had disappeared the moment she'd been hired to work for the Ministry of Magic.

"Knock. Knock."

The former Head Girl shifted her attention to the door. "Harry? What are you doing here so late?"

"I could ask you the same question," shrugged the spectacled young man, taking a seat across from her desk. "You should really take a day off, or a month. Either way."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm devoted to my work. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"No…" he decided, avoiding eye contact. "But there is something wrong with throwing yourself into work to avoid problems in your personal life."

"I beg your pardon?"

Harry gave her a knowing look. "It's been three months."

"Since?"

"Don't be that way. You what I'm talking about."

Hermione did her best to keep her composure. "I do, but I don't see how that's had a negative impact on my work life. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I've only seen the benefits of parting ways with Ronald."

"Ronald? That's your problem right there." Harry sighed, as though they'd had this conversation dozens of times. "You loved each other. You were bloody engaged, for Merlin's sake. There's no way you aren't hurting from that."

"Who said I'm not?" she retorted, a little sharp. "Wasn't."

Harry reached across the desk and put his hand on hers. "Go home, Hermione. Get some rest."

"Why? I have so much to do right here."

"Ginny mentioned something about a girl's weekend with Luna. You should join them."

Hermione's bottom lip twitched. She hadn't spoken more than a few words to Ginny since breaking up with Ron. It was an awkward situation all around. "If either of them wanted me there, they would have invited me without your assistance."

Harry didn't even attempt a response to that argument. He usually stayed out of girl problems. "What can I do to help? Name anything. Please."

"Doesn't helping me go against your man code, or whatever it's called."

"No," he answered firmly. "You're my friend, too."

She knew what that meant. Ron didn't need Harry's help. He was doing just fine. Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Harry. I need work. Some people drink away their sorrows. Other people find a distraction in someone else. But I work. That's what I do. That's what I've always done."

Her best friend paused for quite a long time. She figured he'd finally given up but just as Hermione let her guard down, Harry spoke. "Here," he said, handing her a folder he'd been carrying around. "You want work? You have work."

Hermione eyed the folder with obvious skepticism. "What is it?"

"It's work, just not the kind you're used to."

She took hold of the folder and revealed its contents. It was an assignment for her from the Head of Harry's department, an assignment to bring a mysterious creature to justice. "I can't do this," deduced the young woman. "I'm not an Auror."

"Yet," corrected the young man.

The brunette read her best friend's expression, as though it were handwritten on a piece of parchment. "My application went through?"

"With flying colours," smiled Harry. "I was going to wait until the morning to give you the good news, but I figured now was as good a time as any."

Hermione drew a blank. She'd applied for a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement ages ago, before her life had taken a nosedive. "Erm…I…I…I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll do it," suggested Harry, visibly excited for her. "Come on, Hermione. It'll be good for you to get out and change things up a bit."

In every logical sense, he was right, but Hermione didn't know if she was ready. It had been Ron to persuade her into joining the Auror Office. "I don't know, Harry."

"Just keep reading the case and if you don't like what you see…I'll do it myself. I promise."

Hermione frowned, glancing back down at the parchment until her eyes turned the size of Galleons. "Malfoy Manor?" she asked, staring between the print and Harry's face. "I thought that place had been reduced to a pile of rubble since the war. What could possibly be there?"

"We don't know, but there have been a slew of bodies scattered around the area."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "And you're asking me to investigate? I'm a little under qualified, aren't I?"

"You won't be alone, and I know you're more than capable of doing this," explained Harry. "I wouldn't be half the wizard I am today, if it weren't for you. Everyone in the department agrees."

Her mouth twitched into a smile, but she shook it away as soon as it came. "No more flattery."

"It's not flattery. It's the truth."

The look in his eyes confirmed it. Hermione had figured they would give her some petty theft cases for her first dozen. "Interesting locale," she said, flipping through the parchment. "Most people believe the place to be haunted."

"Actually, the bodies recovered around the area aren't the work of a ghost."

"What do you mean?" asked the young woman.

Harry gestured for her to keep flipping through, to the back, with the photographs.

Hermione did as he indicated and felt her insides freeze. She couldn't move. The images were far too gruesome to handle. There were dozens upon dozens of corpses. "This is…outrageous."

"I know," he agreed. "The autopsy reports specify a large, feral creature with little to no control."

"Werewolf?"

"That was my initial guess," offered Harry. "But I've never encountered a werewolf capable of dealing that sort of damage."

He was right. The claw and teeth marks on the bodies looked nothing like that of a werewolf attack. It had to be something else. "What do you think it is?"

"Take a look at that last photograph."

Hermione timidly flipped to the end of the stack and clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. It was definitely not a werewolf. In fact, she wasn't sure what it was, only that it was peering out of the topmost window on the topmost floor of Malfoy Manor. "…What is it that?"

"We don't know," frowned Harry, also disturbed by the images. "But a few lads in the office are calling it the Mutant at Malfoy Manor."

It sure looked to be some sort of mutant creature, though Hermione wasn't sure. In the magical world, anything was possible. That was the curse of their kind. "When do I leave?"

"In the morning."

"So soon?"

"We haven't much time," explained Harry. "You're partnered with Nott and I'll be joining you, along with three others, by the end of the week."

"Nott? As in, Theodore Nott?"

He nodded.

Hermione shrugged it off. She hadn't encountered Nott since their days at Hogwarts. He was one of the few Slytherin students that didn't openly terrorize her on an hourly basis. "I suppose it's settled then."

"I suppose so."


	2. Chapter 2

"Granger," greeted Nott, bowing his head. "Good to see you."

She offered a smile, unlocking the keys to her _Toyota Prius_. It was a gift from her parents, in an attempt to make sure she's not completely estranged from the Muggle world. Hermione quite liked it, too. Brooms weren't her forte. Port Keys made her sick. And the tube was too reliant on a schedule that wasn't hers. Cars, on the other hand…they were nice, fast, and gave her a high the most hardcore drugs in the world couldn't achieve.

Nott took a seat in the front passenger compartment, whilst Hermione took the wheel. She thought to remind him about seatbelts, but he was buckled up and ready to go before her lips had time to part. Then again, Nott had always surprised her – even in their Hogwarts days. He'd been the only Slytherin to take Muggle Studies, though her teenaged self had pegged it as a _keep your enemies closer _situation.

"Have you ever been to the West Country?" asked Hermione, reversing out of her parking space.

Nott had his eyes on the road, focused. He sometimes reminded her of the late Remus Lupin. They had both been mild-mannered, intelligent young men in a circle of misbehaving hooligans. "Here and there," he answered politely. "Yourself?"

She'd been to West Country a few times as a child, and one very memorable time as a teenager. Hermione tried her best to block out the memory, knowing it would haunt her in her sleep, like clockwork. "Same as you."

They drove in silence for quite some time. Nott had pulled out some sort of notebook and wrote perfectly, page after page. Hermione wanted to peer over, but she had to stay focused. There was a mission at hand. There was no time for snooping around Nott's journal. That would have to wait until they found the Mutant at Malfoy Manor and put it to justice.

"May I ask you something?" interjected Nott, bookmarking his journal with a black ribbon and tucking it back into his book bag.

"Sure," shrugged the young woman, trying to downplay her curiosity.

"How did you learn to operate a vehicle?"

Hermione wanted to laugh, but didn't. "My father taught me one summer. It was just after graduation." She had fond memories of that summer, driving in her car with her friends, carefree and with the wind in her hair. "Do you know how to drive?"

Nott smiled, for the first time in forty minutes. "I'm afraid my father would suffer heart failure if he knew I was currently in a vehicle…let alone driving one."

"Ah." She'd figured as much. "Being Pureblood must feel so suffocating."

The words left her mouth before she could stop them, but Nott didn't seem to mind. "It can do," he answered honestly. "Everything has its downsides."

She couldn't help but agree. It would be a dream come true for her parents to have seen Hogwarts. No Muggles allowed.

"Oh, no. Where are my manners?" asked Nott. "Congratulations on joining the Auror Office."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you."

"Quite an intense first assignment, I'd say."

"Completely. I was in shock when Harry dropped by my office with the paperwork. Actually, I think I still might be."

Nott laughed. Strange. She hadn't heard him laugh until then – ever. It was a nice, uniform, polite laugh. "The entire wizarding world is aware of your history. You're more than qualified for the case."

Hermione faced her partner, rolling her eyes as if to dismiss his statement. "I don't know about that last bit, but I suppose we'll see."

More driving. More silence. Hermione nearly nodded off a few times, but Nott managed to keep her awake with his short coughs. They pulled into a country road and off to the side. There were no houses in sight, and not one person aside from the two of them.

"Looks like its walking from here," deduced Nott, smoothly exiting the vehicle.

Hermione stumbled her way out, nearly tripping over her own feet. She hoped to Merlin her new partner didn't see, and plastered a smile on her face as they continued on foot. The land was unplottable, but Nott seemed to have an excellent idea where to go. It was then that Hermione realized the obvious. He was obviously well acquainted with Draco Malfoy during their days at Hogwarts. There was no doubt in her mind that Nott had visited more than a few times.

Harry's choice to partner them was beginning to make sense.

They continued on a gravel path, until reaching a pair of rusted, wrought iron gates with nothing behind them. Hermione narrowed her eyes, doubtful of the location.

"Stand back," advised Nott, withdrawing his wand.

Before she could object, he held her behind him with one arm and traced the tip of his wand along a stretch of iron. Several moments flew by, in which nothing happened, until Nott swiftly passed them through the gates, as if they were made of smoke.

He pocketed his wand, but kept firm hold of Hermione as they proceeded down the driveway.

She stayed silent, knowing it was not her expertise they required at that moment. Her time would come, and when it did…Hermione would give it everything she had. There was something to prove in ones first case.

The young woman glanced up, noticing a formation in the sky. She held her breath as the formation grew and grew and grew, until the empty space ahead transformed into a full-sized Manor home. There was a large lump in her throat. She wondered if Harry had made the right choice, hiring her for this specific case. There were many terrible memories in Malfoy Manor, memories she would rather forget.

"Are you all right?" asked Nott, sensing her nervousness.

Hermione nodded. "I'm fine. Where do we start?"

"Those tracks would be a good start," he suggested, gesturing to a set of monstrous footprints. They bore a vague resemblance to both human and bear prints, only gargantuan in size, and carried on from the gravel driveway to the left side of the Manor. "Stay close."

Had it been Harry, she would have smacked him upside the head for being so protective, but Nott wasn't being protective. He was being smart. She could appreciate that. Hermione followed his lead and ducked behind various plants and stone structures as they continued onward. She held her wand close, knowing there was probably a dent in her right palm from the strength of her grip.

"Do you hear that?" asked the young woman, feeling a chill crawl the length of her spine.

Nott confirmed with nothing more than a glance. He pulled her low and they took cover behind a stone statue of a snake in the shape of an _S_. They had made their way to the back of the Manor, in what was left of the garden, and through Hermione's peripheral vision, she noticed something moving behind the plants.

It was close to the back woods, and whatever it was emitted a low growl that made every bone in her body hold completely and utterly still. She'd never heard anything so menacing in her life, and that's saying something.

Her partner motioned for her to stay back, whilst he continue ahead to investigate. She shook her head and held him in place. There was no way he'd go alone. They were on the mission together, and he'd already had a taste of leadership. It was time to buckle down and get dirty.

Hermione extended her wand and mouthed 'on five'.

_One…_

Nott gave her shoulder a light squeeze, as if to transfer his strength to her. It was something Harry had done during their hunt for the Horcruxes. It was familiar. It was comforting.

_Two..._

Hermione tried to steady her breathing, feeling her heart beat out of her chest like a rabid animal.

_Three…_

Without thinking much about it, she buried her head into Nott's surprisingly hard chest and found solace in the fact that his heart was beating just as wild.

_Four…_

Hermione closed her eyes and visualized the high points in her life. Firstly, there was her family. Second, there was Hogwarts. Third, there was her group of loyal friends. Fourth, there was her career, and lastly –

The young woman fell to the ground as Nott rushed off without her. She could hear a commotion. It was a mixture of growls, explosions and shouts. She used her last iota of courage and shot a spell straight into the distance, watching the surge of energy from her wand hit nothing but trees. Hermione glanced around, and felt her heart sink at the sight of Nott's motionless body, sprawled on the damp Earth.

She raced to his side and felt a spark of hope as he blinked.

"R – Run," he warned her. "L – Leave this place."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm getting you out of here. Hold on to me." She wrapped his arm around her neck and made motion to stand, but the wound at the back of Nott's head created a pool of blood beneath them. They were both covered in crimson.

She had barely known him, but the sight of her partner in such a state broke her heart to a million pieces. Hermione felt tears well up around her eyes. There was no hope for Nott.

"Run," he breathed.

Hermione held his hand. She squeezed it and felt her entire body give out as he failed to squeeze back.

"No." She shook her head. "No. No. No."

Nott's eyelids lowered with each passing second. He opened his mouth, ever so slightly, murmuring something so low she could barely hear it. "_Behind you_."

The young woman felt a wave of panic settle in her chest, wrap around her broken heart and grasp her core with the fury of a wildfire. In a split second, she gripped her wand, turned around and aimed, feeling her body slam against Nott's as a mighty force held her down.

She heard her wand break in two, like a twig. That's when shit got real. Hermione opened her eyes, feeling warm gusts of breath envelope her petite form. She saw a pair of familiar eyes; familiar to the photograph Harry had shown her the previous night, with the likeness of a harsh, demonic being.

Then came darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

_She raced through the corridors, shouting and crying, whilst ducking to avoid the curses. It was green. Everything was green, and that meant one thing. It was the killing curse. _

_Hermione's heart pounded at an uncontrollable rate. She searched desperately for her friends, for Ron, but found no allies. Hogwarts had been massacred. The Second Wizarding War was drawing to an end, and her guess was that it had been a lost cause. _

_The young woman fell to the floor; slamming down hard and feeling her nose break from the impact. _

_A Death Eater pointed his wand against the back of her skull. She closed her eyes and prayed, for anything, to come to her rescue. Her wand had fell from her grasp and rolled off several feet from what she was. There was no hope. _

_"Well, well, well." The voice was unfamiliar, probably a low-rank if she had to guess. "Looks like we've got Potter's bitch in the palm of our hands. What shall we do?"_

_"Kill her," ordered the other, younger. _

_Hermione tried to fight back the tears. She would not go down a sobbing mess. She would fight, with or without her wand. In a split-second, the Head Girl swung her legs around, tripping the first Death Eater and snatching his wand before taking cover. _

_The second Death Eater shot curse after curse, nearly grazing the skin of her left cheek. She ducked just in time and delivered a stunning spell straight to his chest. He fell in a heap of cloak and without hesitation she delivered the same blow to the other. _

_"Well done, Granger."_

_The young woman turned around, and came face to face with her sworn enemy. He was without his usual bodyguards and looked quite battered from whatever was going on in the lower levels._

_She felt her stomach twist as he lifted her wand from the floor. "I suppose this is your wand," he deduced. "Unless it really is that spiky twig in your hand."_

_"Give it back," she ordered, holding out her free hand, whilst pointing the 'spiky twig' at him with the other. "Now."_

_He tossed it in the air and caught it, repeatedly. "I don't think I will. Not so easily, of course."_

_"Give it back, Malfoy."_

_"Ooo," he mocked. "Say my name some more."_

_"Don't make me hurt you."_

_Malfoy snorted with laughter. He took a few steps closer to her, exposing the flesh of his neck. "Go ahead," he dared. "Cut it open. Watch me bleed. It's the closest to being Pureblood you'll ever get."_

_"You're sick," she spat, making motion to grab her wand from his grasp. _

_Before the deed could be done, there was a shout down the corridor, from behind. "There she is!" screamed a pair of Death Eaters, undoubtedly talking about her. The Head Girl spun around to deflect whatever curses they sent her way, and froze in shock as Malfoy shoved her out of the way – albeit ungracefully – and stunned his supposed allies. _

_He looked back at her for a moment, a brief moment, and dropped her wand. She didn't know what to do or say. _

Hermione gasped for breath, as she awoke. Her muscles ached with the exhaustion of someone much older and much weaker. She felt along her chest and moaned in pain. Everything hurt. Every part. Every inch. Everything. Several soundless moments came and went before she did so much as open her eyes.

"Wh – What…" Hermione glanced at her surroundings. She was in a bedroom, but it wasn't her own and it definitely wasn't any sort of facility at St. Mungo's. The décor was old and dated, as though it had recently been cleaned. "What is going on…?"

That's when it occurred to her.

"Miss," whispered a voice in the corner.

Hermione turned around, darting her gaze in every direction before she located the source of the whisper. It was a house-elf, quite a tiny one at that. "Do – Do you know where I am?"

The house-elf nodded. "Master ordered me to help you."

"Master? Who is your master?" It can't have been Nott. She had seen him die before her eyes. "Where the hell am I? Tell me! Where is Nott? What happened to his body? What is this place?"

She went into full panic mode, recalling the last few moments before she passed out. "The Mutant! That thing! It killed Nott!"

"Please, Miss," urged the tiny creature. "Please be calm. You are safe here. There is nothing to fear, Miss."

"I can't calm down!" she cried. "Nott is _dead_!"

The house-elf plopped onto the bed, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders with a surprising amount of strength. "But _you_ are _not dead_," the house-elf indicated, in a way that spoke a thousand words. "Please. Stay calm. Let me help you."

Hermione tried to fight it, but she couldn't. The tears rolled down her cheeks and fell to the plush, white covers. In the minute she had been awake, she'd gathered one detail. She was a prisoner.

"Master is waiting," explained the house-elf, in a squeaky voice. "Let Minnie help. Please, Miss."

"Minnie," repeated Hermione, wiping the tears from her face. "Is – Is that your name?"

The house-elf nodded, cheering up. "Minnie is very pleased to meet you."

Hermione couldn't help but smile through her sadness. She still had a tender spot for house-elves. "You wouldn't happen to have my wand, would you?"

Minnie shook her tiny head. "Master does not allow wand magic."

Hermione frowned. Master was beginning to sound like a right dick. "Wh - What does your Master want from me?"

The house-elf gestured to an emerald green dress draped over the foot of the bed. She had never seen something so exquisite. Hermione didn't know what to say. "Er…"

"Master would like you to join him for supper," explained Minnie, retrieving the dress for her. "Minnie has prepared a bath in the other room. Would you like Minnie to help you wash?"

"No," retorted the brunette. "I'm not wearing that and I'm not joining your Master for supper, not until I know what's going on."

"You are Master's guest," Minnie said simply. "You must accept Master's generosity."

"Generosity?" she repeated. "I'm his _prisoner_."

Minnie's face fell. "You will not join Master for supper?"

"Absolutely not. I demand answers. I demand freedom."

The house-elf looked crestfallen.

Hermione felt terrible about it, for reasons she did not know, but she couldn't change her mind. She had no idea what was waiting for her at supper, or whom. "I want you tell your Master something." The former Head Girl bent closer. "I want you to tell your Master that my friends will find me. It doesn't matter where I am, who he is or why I'm here. My friends will find me and bring me home."

**Two Hours Later**

Night had fallen. Hermione was still awake, terrified. She had heard dozens of slams and shouts and bangs, knowing her defiance hadn't gone unnoticed, but it had to be done. She would not surrender.

Instead, her mind drifted to thoughts of Nott. In the short time they'd known one another, she'd grown fond of her former classmate. He sacrificed himself for her safety, and that was something she wouldn't soon forget. Hermione hugged her knees, shaking beneath the covers of the giant king-size bed. It took every bit of courage she had left not to cry.

Tears were for the weak.

"Miss?"

There was a faint voice from the door, which Hermione had since barricaded with every piece of furniture she was strong enough to move. The young woman stayed silent.

"Miss?" repeated the voice, sounding vaguely like Minnie. "M – Master would like to speak to you."

Hermione's muscles tensed up. A ball of panic stirred in and around her heart. She hugged her knees closer, trying to block out the voices.

She heard mumbling on the other side. One voice definitely belonged to Minnie, whilst the other remained foreign to her ears. It was deep, animalistic and laced with anger.

Something shattered on the other side, and for a moment Hermione panicked, thinking Minnie had gotten hurt, but her worries vanished. "Miss? Master has agreed to set you free."

Hermione shot up from the bed, astonished. She made her way to the door, pushed past the furniture, and pressed an ear against the mahogany. "Is – Is that true?"

"Yes," confirmed the house-elf. "Under the condition that you join him for supper."

The same fear tugged at her heartstrings. "What if I object?"

More sounds. Louder. Minnie cleared her tiny throat. "Master would like to know what he could do to change your mind."

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to say _nothing_ but something else came out, without her consent. "I want to speak to your Master," she found herself saying. "Alone." It was all so fast. "And I want him to tell me the truth about where I am."

This time there was silence. She heard no voices. Instead, a pair of footsteps sounded from the other side, light and fast like the pitter-patter of rain. Hermione assumed they belonged to Minnie, and that her wish had been granted.

"Hello?" she asked, pressing her entire body against the door. "Is anyone there?"

Silence.

"I – I will happily join you for supper, but, first, I require a few answers."

Silence.

Hermione took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself. "Where am I?"

At first, there was more silence, but then she heard something from the other side. It was breathing; harsh breathing, and it resembled that of a beast-like creature.

"Where you have always been," spoke a menacing, growl-like voice. "Malfoy Manor."

Her worst fears had been confirmed. Hermione wasn't so daft to think a mysterious stranger had rescued her from the attack and taken her to his home. The pieces had finally fallen into place.

She wanted to cry, to shout, to jump from the window and sprint home, but Malfoy Manor had been built with magic from the ground up. It was impossible to escape, not without the owner's permission.

Hermione tried to steady her heart, as the next question crawled up her throat and pried its way through her pursed lips. "Who – Who are you?"

"The one you came for," spoke that same, nightmarish voice. "I am the Mutant."

**A/N: Thanks for reading. I would love it if you left a review - good or bad. xo**


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione breathed in and out, slowly, descending down the Grand Staircase at Malfoy Manor. She had parted ways with her own clothes, and instead wore the emerald green dress. It was backless, clung to her waist and flowed down in lush waves. She had never worn something so luxurious, not since Bill and Fleur's wedding.

That had been ages ago. She was only a girl. She had the world at her fingertips. Things had changed so much since then.

Hermione peered back and noticed Minnie had disappeared. No matter. She already knew where to go. She had been there before. The memory of it prickled her heart, as she continued down the staircase. So many images were flashing through her mind. She barely noticed who was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.

He was incredibly tall, wore a set of hooded, black dress robes matched with black gloves and a mask. It was silver and resembled that of the Phantom in Gaston Leroux's novel. She couldn't see a single inch of his skin, and wondered to herself if this was truly the Mutant. He bore no similarities to the beast that had attacked Nott. Then again, that beast hadn't been covered from head to toe.

Nevertheless, he regarded her with a polite bow of the head and held out his arm. Hermione reluctantly accepted and felt a set of chills crawl the length of her spine as they proceeded for the Dining Room.

They walked in silence.

She could hear that same pitter-patter of footsteps and noticed Minnie trailing behind with a large smile on her face. It was quite alarming, given the situation.

"Have a seat," spoke the Mutant. "Your feast awaits."

Hermione obeyed, positioning herself across the table from her host and watching as he walked with the slightest limp. He was hurt. Before the young woman could delve further into the mystery, Minnie and set of three other house-elves rushed into the room with silver platters. In a row, they took the lids off to reveal culinary masterpieces.

Her stomach growled a bit, but she knew better than to accept food from a stranger. Instead she casually poked at her plate, which Minnie had set, and swirled her glass of wine without actually ingesting anything.

"You aren't eating," he detected, having cleaned the extra rare steak from his plate. "Would you prefer something else?"

"Erm…" Hermione hadn't prepared for this. "I…I'm not very hungry."

"Eat," he ordered, halfway through his second steak. "You will need your strength."

She had no idea what that meant, but it didn't sound good. Hermione glanced to Minnie, who offered her a gentle nod, and caved. It was true. She was famished. Nott had insisted they not stop for a bite, which left her stomach completely empty. The young woman took a few hesitant bites of salad, feeling her insides warm up at the taste of real food.

Around ten minutes later, her plate was also clean. The Mutant finished off six steaks, deciding he, too, was full.

"That – That was nice," she regarded, unsure of what to say.

"We're not done."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "I…I was under the impression I could go home after supper."

"You were wrong," he said coolly. "I have other plans for you."

She set down her utensils. "I beg your pardon?"

"I have other plans for you," he repeated.

Hermione dabbed at her lips with the napkin before getting up. "That's too bad, because I'm leaving."

"You will stay!" he demanded, slamming his fist on the table. "Sit down!"

Hermione huffed, feeling her patience wear thin. She had been tricked. "No! You promised I could leave after supper. You promised!"

The Mutant shot up from his chair, sending it flying against the back wall, into a thousand pieces. He rushed to her before she could flee, and grabbed her by both shoulders. "Listen to me, girl. I am not your friend. I am not your ally. I am not here to save you." He brought his mouth close to her left ear. "_You are mine_."

The former Head Girl felt fear rush to the tip of her throat and around her eyes. She had only felt this afraid once in her life and she would be damned if it happened again. Hermione shoved him off and slashed him across the neck with her butter knife before racing out of the Dining Room and straight for the doors.

There was an earth-shattering growl behind her, but she had no time to look back. Hermione grabbed both handles and used every bit of strength she had to open the doors. They didn't budge.

"Master, please!" begged Minnie, her tiny footsteps echoing after his rumbling stomps. "Be calm, Master! Be calm!"

Hermione sunk low to the floor, feeling her entire body shake as she listened to the impossibly loud ruckus. It was a mixture of growls, shouts, and smashing. It sounded as though the entire Manor was being torn to pieces floor by floor. She couldn't take it. She just couldn't.

Tears fell from her eyes, and Hermione hurriedly wiped them away, fear striking as she worried for Minnie's safety.

It had been a long time since her SPEW days, but she still held those beliefs close to her heart. In addition to that, house-elves could teleport. Minnie would help her. Minnie had to help her.

Hermione gathered the skirt to her dress and gasped for a moment, noticing the broken banisters on the staircase and the smashed flooring. Perhaps he was the same Mutant.

The young woman followed the tracks, into a wing of the Manor she had never visited, and found the corridors growing darker and darker. The only light came from a few torches on the walls. She took hold of one and illuminated the path ahead, shocked to find portraits of the Malfoy family still in tact.

It was a sad thing, what happened to them. She had heard about it shortly after writing her NEWT exams, to make up for lost time during what was supposed to be their Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were war criminals. They had been sent straight to Azkaban, under high security – a kind fate compared to that of their one and only son. Hermione didn't know why, but her heart sank at the memory of what happened to Draco Malfoy.

He had fled, far and wide, in an attempt to avoid the Aurors. For a long time they couldn't find him but one day the news came. Draco had been found in Moscow, under the alias of a Muggle man and brought to justice by illegal means. He'd been killed – tortured and killed – by a pair of unnamed and unpunished Aurors.

Hermione couldn't help thinking about that one time he'd saved her from the Death Eaters, wondering if there was anything she could have said right then to warn him of his fate. It had been the last time she'd properly spoken to the boy.

And, now, so many years later, she was in his home as a prisoner.

The brunette brought her sprint to a slow walk and noticed the broken flooring continued through a door at the end of the corridor. It was the largest of any doors she had seen in the last twenty minutes, and one of the silver handles had been broken off.

Against her best judgment, Hermione opened the door and found a bedroom. It was decorated similar to the one she'd woken up in, but five times as large. She gasped at the sight of blood, and wondered if it belonged to Minnie but neither saw nor heard any sign of the house-elf. There were, however, clothes scattered across the floor. It was his shoes, and his gloves, and his mask and his dress robes. They'd been torn to pieces, practically shredded.

She knelt down and retrieved a bit of fabric. It felt soft against her skin, but Hermione released it the moment she noticed something across the room. It was a stone, sink-like structure with an overhead glass compartment filled with tiny bottles of liquid.

Hermione had seen one of those before, in Dumbledore's office. It was a pensieve.

She felt her body move in the direction of the pensieve, until her head hovered over it. It was a bad idea – a bad, bad idea – but the young woman saw no other way.

She went for it.

_A tendril of fear locked around Draco's throat, muffling his shouts. There was no doubt in his mind the entirety of Moscow would have heard him had the Aurors not charmed his flat. He kicked and shoved and did everything he could to avoid them, but he'd been left wandless and unprepared for the assault. _

_"You fucking scum!" shouted the taller one, kicking him in the gut. "We ought to kill you right here, right now!" _

_Draco spat on his shoes, surprised he had any saliva left after the way they'd beaten it out of him. He had little skill when it came to brawling. That had been his mistake – one of many. _

_"If it weren't for Potter and his bloody righteousness, I would have your head hanging in the Ministry," threatened the Auror, kneeling low. "Front and centre._

_He pointed his wand at Draco's neck and narrowed his eyes with contempt. _

_"Easy there," voiced the second Auror, significantly less rowdy yet all the more intimidating. _

_Draco had his back to that one, but he doubted he'd recognize him. The youngest Malfoy had spent too much time on the other side to know every Auror by face and name. _

_"No need for empty threats," he said calmly. "We will bring to justice."_

_"No. No. I want to kill him." _

_"You will do no such thing, Thatcher."_

_Thatcher, the taller Auror, groaned with frustration. He was a burly man, built like a wrestler with robes that barely fit. He reminded Draco of his former allies – Crabbe and Goyle – but had no such loyalty for him. _

_"He is scum. He served the Dark Lord. Those damned Death Eaters broke out once, what's saying they won't do it again?" asked Thatcher, making a shockingly valid point. _

_His ally remained composed. "I'm glad you bring that up," he began. "Tell me, have you heard of what happened to Frank and Alice Longbottom?"_

_Thatcher nodded, unable to draw a conclusion. "What of it?"_

_"They survived, but remained…less."_

_Draco felt nerves building up in his stomach. He knew what was coming, and could already feel pain prickling at his tendons. _

_"Are you implying we use the Cruciatus Curse?" Thatcher asked, hungrily. _

_"Not quite," answered the second Auror. "There is another curse, equally unforgivable, but virtually unknown to the general public."_

_"What does it do?" asked Thatcher, looking like a dog with his tail between his legs. _

_"The Cruciatus Curse impacts ones mental health," he explained. "But this other curse impacts something else, something our precious Draco Malfoy would be forced to live with for eternity – sanity in tact. After all, we want him to know the error of his ways, and remember it every day of his life – wear it like a mask, if you will." _

_He pointed his wand at Draco's back, whilst the young man choked out a few inaudible words, trying desperately to convince them to reconsider, but his efforts proved useless. A surge of energy jabbed at his spine and branched out to every inch of his body. He didn't know what hurt more – the pain or the idea of eternity. _

_His muscles and bones twisted and turned, practically contorting, until he realized that's exactly what they were doing. The young man got one glance of his hands and noticed they'd been transformed to claws. He was horrified. He had no idea what was happening, but he knew it was forever. _

_Another surge hit him in the chest – Thatcher's wand. The pain was unbearable. He stopped shouting, wondering if perhaps the torture was over, but it wasn't. His shouts had turned into growls and his body began to morph. Every bone broke and reformed, creating a completely new structure and stretching his skin to the point that he thought he would burst. _

_Draco huffed and puffed for air, until finally it was over. He'd been left alone. The Aurors were gone. It was only he. Without any idea what had happened, the young man released a low wail and immediately pursed his lips when they emitted the sound of a wounded animal, as opposed to a man. _

_He stumbled away from the window and felt a piece of glass. Draco took hold of it with his newly formed claw and laid eyes on his reflection, a reflection of the beast within. _


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione fell someone tug her by the hair, out of the pensieve and onto the floor. She braced herself for the fall but felt an arm swoop in before the impact. Her eyes fluttered open, soaked from the potion, along with her hair, and saw the man of the hour.

"I know who you are," she said, having seen his true reflection in the pensieve, just as his memory displayed.

His mask was no more. She saw his face, and although it was meant to terrify her, Hermione wasn't scared. She'd never been scared of him – of Draco Malfoy.

"I – I thought you were dead," breathed the young woman, feeling his warm breath on her neck. "They said you were killed in Moscow."

"They were wrong," he growled, staring at her with those same, animalistic eyes. "And you will pay for intruding in my personal space."

"Why?" she asked, at a loss. "I can take you to the Ministry. You can bring those bastards to justice."

"Justice?" repeated Draco. "The same justice they gave me? Ha."

"No," Hermione answered calmly, realizing he was naked, on the floor, inches away from her as she lay there. She cupped his face and watched him recoil. "Stop. Let me help."

Draco paused for a moment. "There's nothing you can do. All they'll do is send me to Azkaban. I'm a war criminal." He was right. That's exactly what they would do, regardless of what had happened to him. "I'd rather stay here, alone."

"That's not true," she deduced, feeling her wet hair dampen the fabric of her dress. "If you want to be alone, why won't you let me leave?"

There was a moment of silence, in which Hermione figured she'd gotten through to him, but Draco released her, plopping her on her feet. "You want to leave?" he asked. "Go. Never come back."

"Wait!" she cried, grabbing him by the shoulder as he turned for the door. "I want to help you. Please."

"How?" he growled, jerking away. "There is nothing you can do for me."

"I'll find a way," she assured him. "I promise."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Didn't you pay attention? It's forever. There is no reversal."

Hermione didn't know what to do or say. She wanted to help him more than anything, for reasons unknown. "Join me at the Ministry. We'll strip those bastards of their titles, and make sure they are incapable of inflicting torture on anyone else."

"I am not leaving this place," he said defiantly. "Not like this." There was something in his voice that made her heart break. "You said it yourself, Granger. I'm a mutant."

She stood there, slapped in the face by her own words, and watched as he slipped into the shadows. Hermione felt defeated, more defeated than any other time in her life.

"Draco?" she asked, calling his name for the first time. "What happened to Nott, and all the others?"

He was by the window, peering outside into the darkness. "Part of my curse is uncontrollable rage." He faced her. "I attacked them."

Hermione realized then, that he was still responsible for murder – the murder of dozens. The most recent of which happened to be Nott. She took a step forward. "I will have to turn you in. I hope you know that."

"I do," he voiced deeply.

She knew his game. "You're going to run. Just like before."

Draco nodded. "But this time I will not be found."

Hermione huffed, feeling anger rise to the surface. "I suppose you really are Draco Malfoy."

He ignored her jab. "Say what you like. I will do anything to stay out of Azkaban."

"A bloody coward – through and through," she spat.

Draco shot her a glare. "Is that how you repay me for saving your life?"

"You didn't save me! You kept me hostage!"

"I'm not talking about now!" he roared, sending her back several paces. Draco stepped closer to Hermione, catching her once more as she tripped over the skirt of her dress. "I'm talking about the Battle of Hogwarts – on the seventh floor."

"I remember," she acknowledged. "But saving one person doesn't exempt you from the law."

"I didn't say it would," he retorted.

"Then why did you do it?" asked the brunette, realizing the colour of his eyes had remained the same.

Draco's mouth hovered over hers for several seconds. "Because I couldn't stand the idea of seeing you hurt," he answered coolly. "Not again."

He was speaking of the Skirmish at Malfoy Manor. It was the object of Hermione's nightmares, and something that would probably haunt her for the rest of her life. But the idea of that moment haunting Draco sent a flurry of mixed emotions through her body. "What are you trying to say?" she asked, wondering where the words came from.

Draco's expression was illegible. "You ask too many questions."

"What would you rather I do?" she pressed, still in his grasp.

They stayed like this for a very long time. Hermione didn't know what was happening to her. Her body temperature rose to insurmountable heights and her heart was pounding louder than ever. She took several deep breaths, noticing Draco was also caught in some sort of limbo, and felt the strap of her dress slink down her left shoulder, leaving it bare. The young woman went to readjust it, and stopped as Draco's hand grasped hers, preventing any movement.

His eyes flirted with her body, which had been left soaked in the pensieve potion. Her dress clung to her skin in perfect shape with the upper curves of her torso. She may as well have been wearing nothing.

She knew exactly what his look meant. She had only seen it once before, on someone else, someone that she had long forgotten about. Hermione had no idea what urged her to do it, but she reached with one hand, to the back of the dress and unzipped.

The expression on Draco's face went from embarrassed, to surprised, to completely and utterly famished.

"Is this what you want?" she asked timidly.

He said nothing. Instead, Draco took her by the waist and threw her atop his bed. "I'll have no control from here," he warned her, ready to devour.

Hermione took one final breath. "Neither will I."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Once again, I would love a review. It really keeps me motivated and helps in discerning what works and what doesn't. Enjoy! **


	6. Chapter 6

His naked body hovered over hers. She hadn't taken a proper look at him, but there was no time to for her eyes to wander. Hermione arched her back in anticipation, as Draco shifted forward. In all honestly, he resembled a thing of nightmares – a truly malevolent creature – but for some inexplicable reason that only drove her further and further over the edge.

It wasn't out of sympathy.

It went much, much deeper than that.

Their faces brushed. She bit her bottom lip at the touch of his skin against hers. It was unlike Hermione Granger to be so willing, but there had always been something about this man that tested her boundaries.

Draco lowered his lips, supporting his weight with one arm and brushing his claw through her hair with the other. "Are you afraid?" he asked.

Hermione couldn't think up one honest answer. "Terrified."

A shadow fell over the beastly creature's eyes, depicting a change in the atmosphere between them. "Good," he growled, cupping her head towards his for a kiss.

Their mouths touched in a dance of famine and fervor. It wasn't a gentle kiss, by any means, but Hermione couldn't remember the last time she felt so _wanted _by another man. The former Head Girl went deeper and deeper into the kiss, until all she could feel was his body against hers and the simultaneous rumble of their heartbeats.

Draco tasted of blood and raw flesh, something that should have made her sick, but didn't. He reached between their bodies and traced a single claw over her right breast. Hermione moaned into his mouth. It had been so long since she'd been touched.

He seemed to sense this, because Draco then carried his kiss from her mouth, along her neck, to the sensitive skin of her chest. The young woman gasped, as he teased her breasts with his enormous tongue. It was intoxicating.

"M – More," she begged, eyes fluttering.

Draco obliged, transitioning from just his tongue to his entire mouth. He sucked and licked and nibbled on all the best bits, sending Hermione into a state of complete euphoria. It was then that he realized she wanted this just as bad. The young man could feel her wetness beneath him, on his lower half and on the bed sheets.

It was time.

"I'll ask you one last time," he started in a low voice. "Do you want this?"

Hermione didn't say anything. Instead she chose to spread her legs for him, revealing her innermost desire.

The Mutant at Malfoy Manor didn't need any more convincing. He grabbed hold of her by the waist and gave her a rough, bruising kiss before throwing her back down, onto the bed. "No going back," he growled.

Before Hermione could do so much as register his words, Draco took hold of both her wrists and held them above her head. She was completely and utterly trapped, but her mind was far from that. The young woman's chest rose and fell at an impeccable rate. She could feel him, between her legs, specifically against her core.

He felt enormous.

Draco stayed like this, programming this moment into the depths of his memory, before thrusting himself inside of her. Hermione released a deafening moan, unable to comprehend up from down and left from right. It was unlike anything she had ever felt. She had no idea her body was capable of taking in so much.

The young woman threw her head back in ecstasy and held on for dear life, as Draco thrusts ran hard and deep. His hold on her wrists tightened and tightened and tightened. Hermione bucked her hips against him, showing she wasn't completely useless in their exchange, and delivered her own movements.

This seemed to be the right thing to do, because Draco's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he responded with a rumbling roar. Any trace of control had left the building. He carried her off the bed and against the wall. Hermione could barely take it. It was an unbearable sort of pleasure, the sort written about in books. She needed release.

He tugged on a ceiling chain that once held a chandelier, and fastened it around Hermione's wrists, suspending her in midair. She wrapped her legs around him, and gasped in surprise as he lifted her higher and buried his face against her lower half.

Finally, an earth shattering orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, repeatedly, leaving her shaking and panting for breath. She was sure, by that point, that every creature in the Manor was aware of there exchange. But it felt too good to care.

Draco waited until her body stopped shaking, before breaking the chain and catching her in his arms. "Did you like that?"

"Y – Yes," she breathed, still trying to compose herself. "Now it's your turn."

The young woman yanked him onto the chaise lounge and positioned herself on top of him, keeping close eye contact as she nestled her mouth against his length. It looked as though Draco hadn't expected this, because he made motion to stop her, but his movements fell short as Hermione ran her tongue over the tip – in circles.

She could taste herself on him, but that didn't matter. The former Gryffindor wrapped her entire mouth around his pleasure point and bobbed her head up and down – slow and steady.

In truth, Hermione had little experience with oral pleasure, but Draco's groans and the quiver of his enormous, muscular body served as a perfect guide for what worked and what _really _worked. She carried him close to the edge, teetering into an orgasm, before coming to a halt.

His face twisted with confusion.

"Not like that," she whispered, licking her lips.

Hermione straddled him between her legs, sliding his length inside her and lifting his claws to toy with her breasts as she bounced – faster and faster and faster. A veil of sweat layered both their bodies. He released a guttural moan, delivering his own thrusts. She was a lot better than he imagined, and Merlin knew he imagined her, as so, a lot.

Their pace grew quick and their movements grew desperate. Hermione felt another orgasm building up.

_No_, she thought. _Not before him. Not again. _

Her fears ran deep, but were short-lived. She looked down on him and saw his eyes roll to the back of his head, and with a few more thrusts they climaxed together in a blaze of bloodlust and glory.

Hermione tilted her head back, exhausted beyond belief, and felt the energy vanish from her petite body. The last thing she felt were his arms around her body, and his breath on her skin.


	7. Chapter 7

_Draco slipped into a nearby bookshop. Most of the titles were Russian, but with the help of his Russian-English dictionary and the elderly shopkeeper, he managed to find a small section that contained books in the English language. _

_It was an odd thing, knowing the one aspect of his normal life that he craved more than anything was literature. Malfoy Manor had a vast collection of titles from across time and space. In that moment, he would have given anything to be there…just for a moment. _

_His thoughts naturally drifted to the Hogwarts library. It was his one place of solace during his six years there. He valued the knowledge it offered, but most importantly the privacy. In his later years, Draco was mercilessly followed by a gaggle of girls – led by none other than Pansy Parkinson. It was nice at first, being so popular with the opposite sex, but he grew tired of it. He had no desire for quick shags. He had a job to do, things to learn, places to be. _

_The only girl, in fact, who remained oblivious to him, could also have been found in the library. Her name was Hermione Granger, and she was the smartest in their year. He'd resented her for it, but even he had to admit the girl worked hard and earned every grade given to her. _

_He closed his eyes, thinking of the last time he'd seen her. It had been so long. The entire day was a haze of blood, fire, and darkness. The war had been lost, and Harry had lived. Part of Draco had wanted that, but another part of him knew the consequences. Alas, his fate had been changed. He was no longer living a life of luxury in Malfoy Manor. _

_Yet every moment he took, to think back on the Battle at Hogwarts, one memory flooded his vision. _

_It was the look in her eyes, when he'd saved her. It was the sheer disbelief. It was knowing, through her eyes, he wasn't supposed to be the hero – but the villain. _

_The young man bit back the frustration and circled around the nearest bookshelf. He brushed a finger over the spine of a Muggle book titled _Pride & Prejudice_. He knew this book. He'd seen her reading it, outside on a sunny day in their third year. It was during one of her many spats with Potter and Weasel. She had been alone, with a book in one hand and the other twirling the ends of her wild hair. _

_Draco thought to chuck her book into the Great Lake but instead he watched her read through his peripheral vision. Her expression changed throughout the afternoon, as she followed closely, reciting some of the dialogue out loud as though she had read it thousands of times. He'd been curious then, what drove Hermione to this one piece of literature, and he was curious now. _

_Without a second thought, he opened the book and read an excerpt. _

_"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."_

_The words sent a flurry of emotions into his chest. For reasons unknown, the young man pocketed the book and left money on the counter, knowing he had over-estimated the cost by a large margin. _

Draco downed a goblet of wine, crushing the silver heirloom in his fist as he caught sight of his reflection. It had been years since the change, but he knew deep down there was no getting used to it. Hermione had said it herself. He was a mutant. There was nothing about his appearance that reflected the Draco that once was, but something about that fact told him it wasn't entirely bad.

"Is something the matter?" asked Hermione, having just awoken.

It was morning. They were still in his bedroom, which was illuminated by just a thin strip of daylight that slipped through the gap between window drapes. Draco preferred the dark. "Sorry for waking you," he apologized. "I suppose you wish to leave the Manor."

The young woman sat up, holding the bed sheets to her naked body. He could see the weight of what had happened between them hit her all at once. There were many consequences, most of which were hers. She looked terrified and then disappointed. "Harry is going to kill me."

"Harry?"

"He's the one who got me a job as an Auror," she explained, running both hands through her thick hair. "I hope they don't hold him accountable for my actions."

Draco didn't have much to say. He wasn't a fan of the Ministry. It was flawed in more ways than he could count. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"Nobody knows what happened between us, except for us."

The brunette arched an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting we lie?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "The truth is not worth the damage it would do to your reputation."

Hermione remained unimpressed. "I'd rather deal with the consequences of my actions than take the coward's way out."

"Suit yourself." Draco turned back to his selection of liquor, pouring another goblet of wine. "It was only an idea." He took one large sip. "Then again, there are other options."

She rolled her eyes. "What might those be?"

"Stay with me," he voiced. "I'll keep you safe, until we find answers."

"Stay here?" she asked, flabbergasted. "I will do no such thing."

"You'd rather go back to the Ministry and be known as the girl who shagged a murderer?"

Hermione gasped. "It wasn't a _shag_."

"Really?" asked Draco, amused. "What was it?"

She swallowed, looking completely and utterly lost. "It – It was a lapse in judgment…on both our parts."

"I wouldn't say that," he disagreed, finishing off his second goblet and pouring a third. "I quite enjoyed it. Just give me the word and I'll go for round two."

Hermione's cheeks turned bright red. "You're an awful man."

He gave her a wink. "I'm a monster. It's in my nature."

"Oh, please." She frowned. "Don't give me that rubbish. You're still the same ferret from Hogwarts, just bigger and…more hair."

Draco tilted his goblet in her direction. "As long as I'm bigger."

"Will you stop with the innuendo?"

"What innuendo?" he asked innocently. "I would do no such thing."

Hermione rolled her eyes a second time. "Is this part of your scheme?" she asked. "You lure girls into your Manor and hold them hostage until they give you a pity fuck?"

This time Draco looked taken aback, but only for a second. "You're angry because you liked it," he challenged, leaning towards her and pressing the rim of his goblet against her parted lips. "And just the idea of fucking me a second time arouses you more than anything that pathetic excuse for a boyfriend had ever done."

Hermione tried to say something, but wine poured into her mouth before she could get a single word in. It was definitely unlike any wine she had ever tasted. It was had countless layers, undoubtedly earned by age, and sent her into a world of clouds and mist.

She opened her eyes, only then realizing they had been closed, and witnessed everything in a haze.

Draco threw the goblet aside and turned back in her direction. "Let go," he whispered, speaking directly to her subconscious. "Just let go."

The young woman took a deep, deep breath. All that pent up frustration withered away, along with her grip on the bed sheets. She followed Draco's eyes as they traveled along her naked torso and felt her breasts perk up at the sight of his lustful gaze.

He'd been absolutely right. She had liked it more than she was willing to admit. "Is this happening again…?" Hermione asked.

Draco placed a hand on the small of her back and lowered her onto the bed. "Would you like me to stop?"

The brunette didn't think for more than a second. "Yes," she interrupted.

Draco backed away in an instant, looking confused. "Erm –"

"I have an idea," she voiced. "Do – Do you have a dungeon?"

The young man nodded, realizing exactly what was in store. He stepped off the bed and held out his arm. "Right this way, my lady."


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione found herself caring less and less about what was waiting for her outside of the Manor, and realizing that was more terrifying than anything Draco could have said or done. She knew he had done wrong. He wasn't just a war criminal. He wasn't just a helpless schoolboy coaxed into joining his father's cult. He was a murderer – of dozens.

She caught his gaze every now and then, as they headed for the dungeons, and tried hard to find that one strand of homicidal DNA – but her efforts proved useless. There was something about him, about the Jekyll and Hyde aspect of his being that spoke volumes. In that moment she realized one thing.

He was both guilty and innocent.

"Do you mind if we take a small detour?" he asked.

Hermione blinked several times, falling back to reality. "Erm – no. I don't mind."

Draco led them to a corridor just off the foyer and they continued until reaching a set of large, double doors made of the finest wood. "I've wanted to bring you here since your arrival."

Before she had a chance to reply, Draco opened the double doors, revealing the most spectacular thing Hermione had ever seen. She felt her jaw hang open, and took several steps forward. "This – This is amazing."

"It's yours," he interjected. "For as long as you're here. Everything in this room is at your disposal."

Hermione faced him, flabbergasted. "But – But there must be thousands of books in here. I…I couldn't…"

"Please. I insist." Draco closed the door behind them and ushered Hermione to one of the nearby shelves. "This shelf is Muggle literature. The rest of it is Wizarding."

She arched an eyebrow. "You have Muggle literature in here? Isn't that sacrilegious?"

Draco laughed. "If my father has a problem with it, he can sneak himself out of Azkaban and do something."

"Fair enough." Hermione shifted her attention back to the books. "This must be bigger than the Hogwarts library."

"Smaller," he clarified. "But not by a large margin."

The brunette hadn't heard him. She was focused on something in the Muggle shelf. It looked quite old compared to the rest of the books. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked, facing him for a split second.

"Maybe."

Hermione pulled the book out from its spine and raised both eyebrows. "_Captain Corelli's Mandolin_," she read aloud. "I don't think I've read this one in ages."

"I picked it up in Russia, back when I was in hiding."

The young woman stared at him, as though she had forgotten all about that part in his life. "Hmm. Maybe I should give it another go. What was your favourite bit?"

Draco didn't pause for a single second. He recited the words as though they had been etched into the inner alcoves of his mind. "_When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No ... don't blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn't sound very exciting, does it? But it is."_

Hermione could do nothing but gape. Everything he had said, every word, was a direct line into her life preceding Malfoy Manor. She had stopped being in love, but in the end there was nothing left. None of it was real. It was all an illusion, a dream.

"Are you all right?" asked Draco, taking note of her mood change. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Not at all," she assured him. "I just – I really like that quote."

Draco didn't seem convinced. "You know my deepest, darkest moment better than anyone in this universe or the next," he started. "Now it's my turn to know yours. What's bothering you?"

His words were unapologetic and abrupt in nature, but through it all Hermione felt a certain compulsion to unearth every detail. She turned away from him. "You ask a lot of questions."

"I want to know you," he uttered. "It's that simple."

She closed her eyes. "I want to leave."

"Why are you afraid?" he probed.

"I'm not afraid of you. I think we've established that."

"Not me," blurted the young man. "I'm talking about us. Why are you afraid of exploring this?"

"Let me go."

He reached for her. "Tell, Hermione. What is wrong?"

"Nothing!"

"Why can't you just let this happen?"

"Because you're a murderer!" she cried, shoving his hand away and slamming her body back against the door. "Y – You've killed people – in cold blood." A harsh silence filled the room. "You must be held accountable. It's the only right course of action. B – But I can't do it," she uttered, sinking low to the floor. "Because for some inconceivable reason, I – I think you're innocent." Her gaze tilted upwards, meeting with his.

Draco knelt down, lifting her from the floor as though she weighed a feather. "I think it's time you learn the full truth."

Without any hints, he led her away from the library and down an empty corridor. There was no light in sight. Hermione followed closely behind him, only then realizing their hands were together, and looked to her guide as they reached a downward staircase. He gave her a comforting look before showing her down the steps. It felt as though the stairs were never-ending. They'd been descending for nearly twenty minutes when an end was finally in sight.

The walls were made of stone, as were floors and the ceiling. Hermione glanced all around, noticing tiny rooms divided up by rusted, metal bars. She looked to Draco. "We're in the dungeons."

His silence was confirmation enough. The young man continued down the empty corridor, footsteps echoing in the deafening silence. He stopped somewhere near the end and motioned for Hermione to join his side. She hesitantly found herself in such a place and, against her better judgment, looked to the cell in front of them.

A glacial force coursed through her veins, rendering her both paralyzed and speechless. This cell, unlike the others, was not empty. At first it looked to be a bundle of tattered fabric, perhaps a cloak, but upon closer inspection Hermione realized there was a man underneath. His face was barely visible, but the tuft of dark hair on his head followed by the blood that matted it together was enough.

"_Nott_," she breathed, grabbing the bars. "H – He's alive."

Draco remained several paces back. "Barely."

"I don't understand. I saw him die before my own eyes."

"I've been tending to him," explained the youngest Malfoy. "This would all be easier, had I the right tools."

Hermione faced him. "Why is he locked up? He should be in St. Mungo's."

An odd feeling veiled Draco's expression. "Some things are better left unknown."

"I – I should help," she decided, rolling up her sleeves. "Open the cell. I'll have a look at him."

"You will do no such thing."

Hermione gaped. "Are you mad? He can't heal under these conditions. Let me have a look at him."

"I can't have that. He's a danger to you."

"_What_?"

"How well do you know Nott?"

"Erm – well – he was my partner for only a day. All I really know about him is that he's an Auror."

"Tell me something," he started. "In the pensieve, you noted two individuals – two Aurors – who did this to me. Correct?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You're not suggesting Nott was involved, are you?"

"No," answered Draco, staring at her with a look as cold and hard as steel. "I'm telling you."

The young woman took several steps back. Her breathing grew rapid and her head was spinning. "That's impossible. That would mean he's crooked."

"How do you think they tracked me down?" he furthered. "I covered my tracks day in and day out, whilst hiding in Russia. My only mistake was, trusting an old friend." His words were drenched in disappointment. "I sought him out for help, in knowing what became of my family, and instead I earned _this_." Draco gestured to his own self.

Hermione stared between the men. In the short time she had known Nott, he gave her no indication that he was at all crooked. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"I don't know," offered the young man, turning to his former ally. "But I have every intention in finding out."


	9. Chapter 9

Draco retreated to the dungeons. Hermione had requested some alone time, and to be frank, he didn't mind. They had been on the outs since the truth came out. She had a lot to contemplate and he understood that. It wasn't just the two of them anymore – it was Nott.

The young man found himself across from his former ally, watching as his crumpled body rose and fell, weak and worse than ever. Draco unlocked the door to the cell and knelt down. In his hand he held a vial of dark blue liquid. It had taken around twenty-four hours to brew and there was only one way to know if it would work.

Draco uncorked the vial and poured the liquid into Nott's mouth. He waited one minute, two minutes, three minutes, and four. No change. Nott was still as lifeless as ever.

His plan hadn't worked. The potion was supposed to be instant, and instead Nott looked in worse shape than before. Resigned, Draco left the dungeons and headed back for his private study. He needed some time to think up a plan. Would he stay? Would he leave? He didn't know.

"There you are."

He turned to the door, where Hermione stood. She was wearing a white summer dress with her hair in a ponytail.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," she started, carrying a thick book with both hands. "I found something interesting in the library. It's supposed to be a truth potion – stronger than Veritaserum and impassable. Plus it only takes three days to brew."

"You're willing to stay here for three more days?" asked Draco.

Hermione shrugged, playing it off. "If it means getting the truth out of Nott. Yes, I am quite willing."

He motioned her over and took a look at the book. The potion was indeed powerful, but the ingredients were most rare. He wasn't even sure he had one of the four things needed. "How do you suggest we obtain these items?"

"I could go to the shops for a day and bring them back. I just need a proper disguise."

"I don't like it," he dismissed. "It's too dangerous."

"What is so dangerous about a disguise?"

Draco flashed her a knowing look. "Not the disguise, Granger." He pointed to all four ingredients. "You won't find these in Diagon Alley with all the school children and their families."

"I know. I have to go to Knockturn Alley. It's not like I haven't been."

"What if you're caught?" he furthered. "There are Voldemort sympathizers everywhere. Don't think they wouldn't pass up the opportunity to –"

"Keep me hostage?" she interjected, folding her arms. "Face it. I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"I don't doubt that," he said honestly. "All I'm saying is you need to take the necessary precautions."

"Of course. I can't just turn up in Knockturn Alley and give a Death Eater my shopping list."

Draco nodded. "Which is why you'll pose as a Pureblood heiress from France."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Everyone knows everyone in the English Wizarding community. Plus, I believe you know French. This can work."

Hermione frowned. "It's not the French part. It's being Pureblood."

"I know it's not your cup of tea, but the shopkeepers won't give you the time of day unless they know you're one of them."

She knew he was right, but the idea of it still rubbed her the wrong way. Hermione sighed. "Fine. I'll do it. What's my name?"

"You'll pose as Danielle Le Roux. She's an old friend of mine from France, who went into hiding a few years ago. Most people presume her to be dead. Last I'd heard from her she was somewhere in Canada. I don't believe she's ever visited Knockturn Alley."

"That means nobody will know it's me."

Draco smiled. "Exactly."

"Le Roux…" thought Hermione. "Does she have red hair?"

"She does. We'll have to give you some minor changes."

"That's fine. As long as it's temporary."

"Perhaps some new clothes."

Hermione laughed. "Let's not get too carried away with those."

"Just a couple outfits. A girl needs options," he winked.

"May I ask how you knew Miss Le Roux?"

A strange emotion tugged at Draco's features. "It's quite ironic, now that you ask." He leaned back on his chair, in thought. "I met her through Nott."

"Oh." Hermione clearly hadn't expected that. "Were they…a thing?"

Draco shrugged. "I never really knew with Nott."

"He does seem the secretive type. It's just hard to imagine him wooing some random girl."

"Maybe that's it," thought Draco. "I mean, I always wondered…but it's not really my place to ask something like that, you know?"

Hermione gathered what he was trying to say, realizing the truth. "I can't believe it had never occurred to me."

"It's all speculation. We don't know anything for sure – not yet."

"That's true. Not until we brew that potion."

Draco handed her the book. "I'll have clothes ready in your wardrobe by morning."

"What about my hair and everything else?"

The young man reached into his cloak and pulled out a wand. "We'll sort that out right now."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "I thought you don't believe in wand magic."

Draco laughed. "I don't believe in handing my hostage a weapon of mass destruction." He opened the topmost drawer to his desk. "But since you're no longer a hostage – here."

"My – My wand." Hermione took hold of it, tossing it a bit to get a feel for her most prized possession. "You really trust me with this?"

"I haven't a choice. I've trusted you with practically everything else."

She smiled, knowing it was something of an olive branch. She had plans to stay longer, and he didn't want her feeling like it was out of her own free will. It was a surprising gesture, and she was thankful. "About time." Out of habit, the young woman spelled one of the nearby snake ornaments to her hand, catching it just in the nick of time.

"Something we learned when we were thirteen," reflected Draco, smug. "Impressive, but no more beating around the bush." He stool his full length and pointed his wand to her. "Strip."

Hermione raised both eyes. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Take your clothes off," he winked. "There are changes to be made, not just to your face."

The brunette was hesitant, knowing he'd already seen her naked but equally embarrassed. "I can't just do this myself?"

"I'm the only one here who knows what Danielle looks like. Trust me, if there was another way to go about this – like Polyjuice Potion – we would do it that way, but I don't have a strand of Danielle's hair, nor do we have the time to wait for that Godforsaken potion to brew."

He was completely right, and for a moment Hermione wondered whether she should ask for a photograph of Danielle to perform the magic herself, but one way or another her dress fell to the floor. She was in nothing but a set of white cotton knickers.

Draco's wand quivered in his grip as he caught sight of her. "Good. Now we can…continue…with the…spell."

Hermione couldn't help but enjoy the way he turned back into a teenaged schoolboy looking at a girl's body for the first time. "I'm the one half-naked here. Why are you nervous?"

The young man frowned. "I'm not nervous. I'm just…being respectful."

"Is that the word you would use to describe the way you're looking at my cleavage?"

His face screwed. "I'm not."

Hermione stepped towards him, pushing the wand away. "You're lying to me," she started. "But I like it."

Draco moved closer, breathing in her lavender scent. "You ready?

She brushed her lips against his jaw, exhaling. "I know you are."


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione grabbed at her breasts and tossed her hair from side to side as she rode him into a mutual climax. Her body quivered, and she could feel her bones turn to air. She sunk low and found his lips in a sweaty kiss. They were still in his study, on top of his desk, which he had cleared with one giant swipe.

She slowly climbed off and found her dress on the floor. "I think we should do the spell a little later."

"Sounds good to me," yawned Draco, slipping into his own clothes. "By the way, that came out of nowhere."

Hermione smiled to herself. "It did, didn't it?"

"I'm not complaining." The young man wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in for another kiss. "I'm still surprised you can look at me without getting sick."

She frowned. "Stop that."

"Stop what? It's the truth. I'm just – I know what I look like and I know it's definitely not the way I used to look before and –"

" – And it doesn't matter," she finished. "It never did."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "You didn't think I was attractive before?"

"Well – no. That's not true. I just – well – I mean." Hermione stumbled over her words, avoiding his smug looks. "You were attractive, aesthetically speaking, but I didn't know the real you enough to allow myself the realization."

"Nice answer," he regarded, fastening his cloak. "You should become a politician."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Like you haven't been ogled enough."

"You're one to talk," he scoffed.

"Ha!"

"What?" Draco asked. "Plenty of blokes would've made a pass at you had it not been for Potter."

"Harry?" Hermione raised both eyebrows. "What about Ronald?"

Draco laughed to himself. "I'll tell you this one time and one time only." He faced her, looking completely serious. "You chose the wrong one."

"I beg your pardon…?"

"You chose the wrong one," he repeated. "You may have had feelings for Weasley, which is fully justifiable as the stupidity of ones adolescent mind, but believe it or not, Potter had eyes for you, too."

This time Hermione laughed. "Harry is a brother to me and always has been. Simple as that."

Draco shook his head, as if to dismiss her statement. "Always?" he asked. "I doubt that's true. The only reason you went off with Weasley instead of Potter is because you were scared, and you already knew Weasley had a thing for you. The bloody oaf practically shat himself during the Yule Ball, when you walked down the staircase."

"You remember that?"

"Of course I did," he regarded. "I can still remember the way Pansy dug her nails into my hand when she saw me staring at you."

Hermione thought back to the memory in question, and realized Draco had been staring at her. She figured at the time it had something to do with Krum by her side, but his rendition told her otherwise. "That was an interesting night."

"What did you get up to?"

"Made out with Krum in the Astronomy Tower," she smiled. "It was a full moon and snow had just begun to fall."

"Magical," mocked Draco. "My night was a little different."

Hermione bit her lip in thought, raising one finger. "Let me guess. You lost your virginity to Pansy."

The former Slytherin broke out into a fit of hysterical laughter. He gripped a nearby chair for support. "That's rich," he sighed, fighting the chuckles. "I wouldn't go near that broad with a ten foot pole, let alone my own."

"Which is definitely not ten feet," mumbled Hermione.

Draco ignored her. "The whole Pansy thing happened out of boredom. She was there. My parents liked her. It was convenient."

"Hmm." Hermione's thoughts rested on the last word. "That sounds familiar."

"I figured it would, and it was your relationship with him you thought of when I read you that quote earlier. Am I right?"

She nodded. "Ronald was right for me at the time. We needed each other. Harry was…so detached from the real world, and I don't blame him considering his life was on the line. Ron and I helped him through it, and I would never change that, but it was nice to be close to someone who knew exactly what I was going through."

"Is that why you never bothered with Potter? His head was in the clouds."

"Something like that," she shrugged. In truth, Hermione had only ever contemplated her friendship with Harry once. "Ron had left during our journey in what was supposed to be Seventh Year. I was quite vulnerable and Harry was the only other person there. There was this one moment, we just looked at each other and we both realized it was completely possible that we'd end up dead."

"I know what you mean," he remarked. "I had a similar moment, right here actually." Draco thought back. "At the time this was my father's study. He'd been in a meeting with some fellow Death Eaters preceding the attack on Hogwarts, and he called me in for a moment."

"You don't have to tell me this," Hermione offered, noticing the change in his expression.

"You deserve to know," he said sharply. "It was the day they brought you here."

She paled.

"I – I was called in the study and my father told me we had guests in the Dining Hall. I assumed they were supporters from overseas, but as I entered the room, the first thing I saw was you." Draco's eyes met with hers as he spoke. "They wanted me to hurt you. I was…terrified. It wasn't necessarily the idea of inflicting pain. It was the idea of doing it to someone I know, someone outside of that mess. It paralyzed me. You don't get it, Hermione. When I saw you, I saw Hogwarts and Quidditch and Butterbeer and everything I had left when I decided to become a Death Eater. It was like a wakeup call. I had to change. I had to be different." His eyes glazed over with an emotion Hermione had never seen. Draco wiped at them with his sleeves. "I realized the true different between you and I. It wasn't our blood. It had nothing to do with being Pureblood or Muggle-born. It had nothing to do with being rich or common." He stared off into nothingness. "My Aunt Bellatrix was torturing the life out of you, and I realized, right then, that it was good versus evil, and I was fighting for the wrong fucking side."

Hermione had mulled over that memory for countless nights. She remembered it well. Draco had avoided her eyes. She thought it was out of cowardice, and a small portion of it may have been, but in truth it was a turning point in his life.

"I genuinely thought either you or I would end up dead by the end of the war," he continued, rubbing the back of his head. "I told my mother, as well, which may have been the sole reason she had saved Harry in the Forbidden Forest."

"You really didn't have to share that with me," she said, knowing the weight of it.

"You know I had to, and on top of that I wanted to." Draco squeezed her hands lightly. "You've done a lot for me. I – I thought opening my library to you would be enough but it's nowhere near enough."

Hermione exhaled. "Don't say things like that. You don't owe me anything."

"It's not about what I owe you. It's what you deserve." Draco stepped away, towards the door. "After we clear things up with Nott, I – I'll turn myself in."

"_What_?"

He spoke with his back facing her. "I'm tired of running. I'm tired of hiding. I need this to be over."

**Three Hours Later **

Hermione couldn't sleep. She had pondered Draco's words for the better part of the night. Would he truly turn himself in? How could he have grown tired of hiding in the space of one day? It defied all logic and reason, but so did many things – namely, her feelings for him. It was strange and terrifying and brilliant. In the heat of the moment, they had shared their bodies with another. She had assumed that would be the extent of it, knowing full well the reputation of Draco Malfoy, but there wasn't just attraction between them. There was trust. There was loyalty. There was confidence.

She leaned back into the plush pillows and closed her eyes tight, as tears began to fall. It was a dangerous thing. It didn't matter which angle she turned the situation. The result was always the same.

She had found the murderer of dozens, found him and simultaneously found herself.

She was in his eyes, when he gazed down at her. She was in his touch, when he brushed his hands over the small of her back. She was in his movement, when he rocked against her body. She was in his taste, when he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione furiously wiped the tears from her eyes. In this instance, there was only one course of action. The young woman pushed the covers from her body and made way to her desk, on top of which rested the book she had found the truth potion in. It was an ancient text, translated from _Sanskrit_ to English using the power of magic, and it contained spells and potions she had never heard of – not once.

The young woman flipped through the pages, past the truth potion, and onto one that she had marked with a white ribbon. It was a spell to erase ones memory – not all of it but just a fragment – stretching from an hour to a decade. Hermione had found it in the morning, and knew right then what she would do with such magic.

She took one deep, calculated breath and left her room, casting a silencing charm over her feet as to not make any noise. The corridors narrowed and a single shiver traveled the length of spine as she made way for the dungeons. They were significantly darker than the last time she'd been there, with Draco to lead the way.

He, of course, had no idea she was there.

Hermione quickly proceeded to the correct cell and extended her wand. It was arguably the most nerve-wracking thing she had ever done, and the only spell she had ever hoped to cast without confidence in her capabilities. Her breathing grew rapid and her heart had the echo of a bass drum. The world urged her to hurry and get on with it. There wasn't much time. Her plan, selfish as it was, had to be executed, right then – in that moment.

Without blinking, she stepped closer to the cell and opened her mouth to speak the words, but in a flash of shock, confusion and terror, her wand fell to the stone floor.

He was gone.

Nott wasn't there.

Somewhere in the West Tower, where the only free Malfoy lay to rest, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was pale, haggard and menacing. In its hand was a wand – ten inches, made of Hawthorn with a core of unicorn hair. It was Draco's wand, in possession of another.

"Hermione?" asked Draco, stirring in his slumber. "Is that you?"

A snake-like smile slithered over the stranger's features. "It is not," he responded, enunciating each syllable. "Though I'm sure she'll find us."

Draco's eyes blinked open for just barely a second before his body was flung across the room. He collided with the mahogany wardrobe, breaking it to pieces, and fell down in a mess of cloak and splinters. The young man groaned in agony. He had just one thing to say. "Nott."

"Correct," spoke the venomous voice of his former ally. "Thank you reviving me, by the way. You did the right thing."

An anger known to few men came over Draco, and he could feel his body begin to contort with rage. He launched himself at Nott, blocked by the shield spell.

"You'll have to try harder than that," rung in the Auror.

Draco growled louder than he ever had, throwing pieces of the broken wardrobe like spears. They were all blocked save for one. Nott spelled it in mid-air, allowing it to hover between them before launching it back. Draco narrowly avoided it, breaking one corner of his bed as he dodged.

"You will duel a wandless man?" asked Draco, disgusted.

Nott released a laughed filled with anything but humour. "You are no man. You are a mutant." He shot another spell at Draco, causing a gash to form across his chest. "Filth."

Blood emerged from the gash, soaking Draco's clothes and the floor beneath him. "You want to kill me?" he asked. "Go ahead. But I demand you set Hermione free. She has done you no harm."

"Oh, but she has." Nott pointed his wand at Draco's heart. "_Crucio_!" The curse was met with an earth-shattering growl. Draco tossed and turned in the most suffering he had felt in years. "She sided with Death Eater scum. She deserves to die as much as you."

Draco's eyes rolled to the back of his head. He tried to clear his mind. He tried to focus on one thing. Her. Her smile. Her laugh. Her mountains and mountains of books. It brought him so much joy. It brought him so much strength.

The young man defied the curse, only just, and panted for breath. "Wh – What about Danielle? She was a Death Eater and y – you loved her."

Nott spat on him. "Wrong!" He fired spell after spell, splitting wounds across Draco's torso. "I didn't love her. I _killed_ her."

The words stung Draco's wounds as much as the air. The most he could hope for was that Hermione would wake up in the morning and decide to leave the house without her disguise, thus rendering her safe from this crazed man.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Draco jolted his head to the door and saw her standing there, knees shaking and eyes bright with determination. She held her wand in one hand and the wand Nott had been using – which belonged to Draco – in the other.

"You sick, twisted fuck." Hermione stepped into the room, avoiding Draco's eyes and pointing her wand directly at Nott. "You should be ashamed to call yourself an Auror."

"The irony is most satisfying," he retorted. "Kill me if you must, but I have sent for backup."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Lies."

Nott gave her smile. "It will take them one hour to get here via the position of the Port Key and another hour to break the protection charms."

"I only need one second to see the end of you," she said through gritted teeth. "I trusted you."

"As you should have." His smile deepened. "This mutant before you has killed dozens and dozens of innocent people. Do you trust him?"

"I trust that he never wished to be this way," Hermione answered carefully, gaze darting to Draco for a split-second, just long enough to catch his eyes as they fluttered shut. His blood was draining with each fleeting second. "You did this to him. I know everything."

"He deserved it. He was a Death Eater. Are you telling me you're a sympathizer?"

"No," she said, point blank. "Draco was never a Death Eater. He'd been forced. It was either he join Voldemort's ranks or his father die. What would you have done?"

The smile vanished from Nott's face. "What I already had done," he answered, a hitch in his voice. "My father was also a Death Eater. My father had also failed the Dark Lord. My father's life had also been on the line, when they had ordered me to join. The only difference is that my father had died, in _their hands_."

"That's what this is about," Hermione realized. "Draco made the choice you wished you had. That's why you did this to him. It wasn't out of the goodness of fighting for the right side. It was anger, jealousy, loathing…"

Nott swallowed hard, opening his mouth to retort, but before the words found their way to his lips, he'd been tackled to the floor. Draco pinned him down and slashed at him with a claw. Blood streaked across the Auror's face. He froze in terror, for just a moment, but as it flew by…his fear joined. In one last attempt at survival, Nott dug his fingers into Draco's deepest wound and ripped out a chunk of crimson flesh.

Draco roared with a furious pain, body quivering and contorting as he slumped lifelessly to the side. He began to shake. Hermione rushed to his side, cupping his face with her hands and staring into his eyes long enough to see something different about him.

"You're changing," she breathed, gazing over his body. "Draco, you're changing."

A thin layer of sweat covered him. His shaking grew fierce, throwing Hermione aside, and a pale glow encapsulated him.

She stared in awe, feeling her own body quiver at the sight of it. A total of seven seconds passed, followed by a vision of the man she had always seen underneath.

"Touching," whispered Nott, mouth hovering over her left ear. "You dropped this," he said, dangling Draco's wand before her.

Hermione's chest jumped and her body followed. She raced to withdraw her wand, and did, but a streak of bright light met with the young woman before she could do anything more.


	11. Chapter 11

"I have something I need to tell you." Her voice was quiet, as quiet at it had been the first time they'd spoken to one another. She looked nervous, practically frightened. It was daunting. "It – It's important."

Harry caught one glimpse of his girlfriend, only to realize what was burdening her so. "Are – Are you –"

"Yes," she finished, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I did everything I usually do. I don't know what went wrong. I – I – I'm scared, Harry. What are we going to do?" Ginny proceeded towards him and buried her face in his chest, with her hand resting over her lower abdomen.

The spectacled young man hugged her with every bit of compassion he could muster. He was scared, as well, but in the same breath he'd been waiting for this moment his entire life. Harry reached into his pocket and knelt down, slipping away from their embrace. "Ginny, I didn't plan on doing this for another few weeks. I was waiting for our holiday to Switzerland but I'm quite sure now is the time to get things going." He unveiled a velvet box and swiftly opened it. Inside rested a diamond ring. "You've been there since the beginning, since this magical journey began. I would love nothing more than to start a new journey, with our own family and live the way we're meant to."

Tears fell from her eyes. She had stopped wiping them away, smiling through every emotion as it came hurling straight at them. Ginny's breathing quickened.

"What I'm saying – asking – is – well –" Harry took a deep breath, staring her deep in the eyes, deeper than any time preceding that moment. "Will you marry me?"

Ginny didn't say a word. Instead she wrapped her arms around him and planted a mercilessly passionate kiss on his lips. It was yes. It had always been yes.

The couple kissed and giggled and cried and held one another. It was a touching moment, filled with the most joy they had felt in a long time. They carried their moment to the bedroom and slowly began to strip away whatever layers remained between their bodies.

Harry pulled Ginny's blouse over her head and placed it on the side table. He went in for another kiss, knowing this was what he had always wanted, and paused – suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked. "Is – Is it the – the baby? Are you having second thoughts?"

"No. Never. I'm happy we're starting a family," he answered, completely genuine. "It's my wand," explained Harry, reaching into one of the drawers in the side table. His wand was inside, vibrating and rising in temperature. "I'm being alerted by the Ministry."

"What? Now?"

Harry frowned. "They only do it if it's something important."

Ginny's face fell, for only a moment, before she smiled. "Go ahead. Sort it out. I'll be right here waiting for you."

"I can't leave you like this. We just got engaged for Merlin's sake."

She cupped his cheek. "Harry, we have our whole lives to spend together. See what's wrong and come back as soon as you can."

He sighed. "You're more than I deserve."

"That's why you asked me to marry you," she smiled. "Now go. I don't want the Minister turning up on our doorstep."

A mere ten minutes since the alert had been sent out, Harry found himself in the Ministry, in Kingsley's office. The Minister held a letter in his hand. He said nothing, tossing the letter to Harry.

The young man took one look at the print and felt his chest tighten. "Hermione – she – is she in danger?"

"According to Nott she's been captured by the mutant. You better head there right now."

Harry knew there was no choice in the matter. His friend was in danger. He had to save her. Ginny would want that. In fact, she'd probably persuade him to let her come along, too. He pocketed the letter and sped out of the Minister's office.

Within seconds Harry strolled into his shared office, finding Ron sitting at his desk overlooking a mess of paperwork. "I need your help."

Ron glanced up. "Is everything all right? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It's Hermione," he started. "She's in danger."

The redhead arched an eyebrow. "Hermione?"

"Listen, I know you two have your differences and I know your breakup was hard and difficult and I know you –"

"Let's go," interjected Ron, wand at the ready. "Malfoy Manor?"

Harry paused, feeling a smile tug at his lips. "Yes. Malfoy Manor."

Some distance from the Ministry, Hermione's eyes flickered open. Her body felt worn out and cold – very, very cold. She waited for her vision to adjust, before taking a glance at her surroundings. She was back in the dungeons, in one of the cells and her arms and legs were in manacles. Not only that – she was naked.

"Rise and shine, beautiful."

Hermione's body went rigid at the sound of his voice. It all came rushing back in one giant swoop. "Let me go!" she cried. "Draco needs our help!"

"He needs no such thing," announced Nott, stepping away from the shadows and into her cell. He knelt down beside her, tracing over her bare skin with the tip of his wand. "I had always wondered what Hermione Granger looked like underneath those hideous layers of clothing."

She struggled against her manacles, feeling tiny slivers of metal dig into her skin each time she moved. "Don't touch me!" Hermione shouted, using every bit of strength she had to move away.

Nott silenced her with a spell, cutting her screams short, and brushed his hand over her mouth. "Soft lips," he smiled, inching closer and closer, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. "I bet the other ones are soft, too."

Hermione felt tears sting the back of her eyes. Her heart was racing. She held her breath and choked out several tears as Nott slid his fingers between her legs.

He felt everything – multiple times. "Softer than I imagined," regarded the crooked Auror. "Not as wet as I'd like, but we can fix that."

She wondered if this is what he did to the women in his life – raped and murdered them. She wondered about Danielle. She wondered about everyone and everything Nott had harmed. Her heart broke for them. Her eyes wept for them. Her heart pounded for them.

Nott forced his mouth on hers, parting her pursed lips with his tongue and slithering it through every inch of her mouth. It was the most vile, disgusting thing she had ever tasted, and hoped the torture would end there. But it didn't. His kiss went forcibly from her mouth, down her neck, to her breasts where he sucked and nibbled.

Hermione's vision was distorted from the amount of tears pouring from her eyes. She felt helpless, stupid, and ridiculous – sitting there whilst he violated her.

"Kill me," she mouthed, tilting her head back in agony.

The young man inserted one of his fingers into her and began to move it forward and backward. Just out of bodily function, she could feel herself dampen. Hermione hated herself, but more than that she hated him. She closed her eyes and thought of Draco – of the Draco she had gotten to know the past couple days and the way he had managed to win her over with just honesty.

Nott spread her down on the hard ground and put his full body weight onto her, smiling as she moaned against the pressure.

In the upper levels of the Manor, there was a different story, taking place. Harry broke through the doors with his strength, surprised with himself as it fell to the hardwood floor. He and Ron had managed to find the Manor and break through its protection charms in half the estimated time. They found a house-elf, a very scared house-elf in the foyer. Her name was Minnie and she teleported them outside the room they presumed Hermione was in.

Harry glanced to Ron and they each had a look around, wands extended. Hermione was nowhere to be found, but there was someone, sprawled across the floor in a heap of cloak and blood and splinters.

"That – That looks like – like –" Ron didn't complete his thoughts. Instead he knelt beside the body and rolled it face up. He looked over at Harry with a grave expression. "I thought he died years ago."

"I thought so, too," reflected Harry, keeping his wand pointed. "Check his pulse."

Ron performed a few spells, checking the vitals. "He's alive – but barely."

"Good. You keep watch and I'll find Hermione."

"What if he's the one who harmed her?" asked Ron. "I should take him back to the Ministry."

"No," coughed Malfoy, earning the attention of both young men. "You will do no such thing."

Harry knelt down. "Where is Hermione? What's happened to her?"

"N – Nott," he choked out. "D – Dungeons."

"We can't trust him," concluded Ron, folding his arms over his chest as he got up from the floor. "He's a war criminal."

"Master is telling the truth," rung in Minnie, peeking around the corner. "Miss Hermione is in the dungeons with a scary man."

Harry's stress lines deepened. He hadn't expected such a turn of events. He turned to Malfoy. "How do we know to trust you? How do we know you're not just sending us into a pit of Death Eaters? How do we know you're not the one putting Hermione's life in danger?"

For a moment, Malfoy didn't say anything. He simply looked Harry and Ron in the eyes and offered them the truth. "B – Because I love her."

Hermione felt tiny beads of sweat cling to her forehead. Nott's mouth was all over her body. If she survived this, she promised herself to bathe for an entire year.

"And now for the grand finale," voiced Nott. "I might have to break the silencing charm so I can hear you scream for your life."

The young woman breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. She had to get through this. She just had to. Her wrists and ankles were sore from the manacles. She could barely move an inch, let alone enough to escape. There had to be some way.

Nott brushed the hair from her face. "Sweet, Hermione. Beautiful, Hermione. Here is what will happen. I am going to fuck you where I know you've never been touched and you are going to like it."

She felt fresh tears pour down her face.

"Shhh," he cooed. "Don't cry. We're partners, remember?"

Hermione spat on him, overcome with insurmountable rage. Nott held her down, hard and reached for the appendage hanging erect over the rim of his trousers.

"Get your filthy, fucking body off of her."

Both of them shifted their attention to the cell door and saw nothing but the reflection of the torch on a pair of circular glasses. Hermione's heart leaped with hope, and Harry emerged. By his side, stood Ron, offering Hermione a look that told her everything she needed to know.

"Get your arse up," ordered Ron, pointing his wand at Nott. "On your knees. Now!"

Nott laughed. "You're after the wrong man."

"Doesn't look like it," Harry chimed in.

"Ask her," suggested Nott, nodding to Hermione. "Lift the silencing charm and ask her who the Mutant at Malfoy Manor truly is. Ask her who killed all those innocent people."

Ron looked over to her, giving her speech with the wave of his wand. "You don't have to say –"

"Take cover!" Harry shouted, pushing Ron out of the way as Nott fired a curse at them.

The boys dodged and weaved, clearly caught off guard by the sudden attack, and delivered spells of their own. It was two against one but Nott was a skillful wizard. There was a reason he'd been chosen to join the Auror Department. He was good. He was very good.

Ron slammed against the wall, as one of Nott's spells hit him square in the chest. His body sunk low to the floor, but Harry had no time to see if he was all right. Instead the Chosen One continued with the duel and managed to connect one of his spells with Nott's left shoulder, sending him straight to the opposite wall – but Nott recovered in a split second.

He tucked and rolled, and shot spell after spell. One of the spells made contact with Harry's glasses, and shattered them to pieces. Harry chucked the frames to the ground and dodged some more beams of bright light. It was madness. It was pure madness.

Ron came to, several moments later, and took one look at Harry before rushing to Hermione's side. He draped his cloak over her and unlocked the manacles. "Get out of here," he ordered. "Run."

"What about –"

"We'll handle this. Don't worry about us." He protected both of them with the shield charm as he led her out of the cell and pushed Hermione in the direction of the staircase leading up and out of the dungeons. "Go to him!" shouted Ron, firing spells left, right and centre, alongside Harry.

Hermione mouthed 'thank you' before gathering the oversized cloak and making a run for it. She barely reached the foot of the stairs before someone blocked her path. It was Minnie.

"Minnie will take you to Master."

"Please, yes."

Minnie held her hands and teleported them out of the dungeons in a snap. Hermione stumbled and fell to the hardwood floor, just outside Draco's bedroom. She hurried inside and found him there, in a pool of his own blood.

"Draco," she breathed, feeling for a moment as though the young man before her was a stranger. It wasn't the same Draco she had grown to know the past couple days, but there was no time for that. Hermione flung herself to his side and placed his head on her lap, combing the blond hair from his forehead. "Please say something."

Draco's eyes were closed for so long she had almost lost hope, but just as one of her tears fell to his forehead, the young man opened his eyes. "Y – You're here…"

"I am," she sniffed, holding him closer. "Harry and Ron –"

"I know," he exhaled. "Th – They slowed down my bl – bleeding…"

Slowed down. Not stopped. Slowed down. Hermione glanced at the wounds across his torso and felt her heart tighten. She quickly tore off a bit of fabric from Ron's cloak with a sharp piece of wood and wrapped it around Draco's largest wound. "That should hold until they're back. I'll stay with you."

"No…"

"What do you mean?"

"You – You need to b – be safe…"

Hermione tried her best to stop crying. She had to stay strong. "It's not about me right now."

Draco swallowed, choking slightly as he struggled to speak. "Please," he breathed. "Please protect your – your –" A strange emotion veiled his eyes. They widened for a moment.

"What is it?" asked Hermione. "What's wrong?"

Before he could answer, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Hermione hesitantly turned around and stood up to find a battered, bruised, and torn up Theodore Nott. He held his wand to her chest and offered her a venomous smile.

"What have you done?" she inquired, horror-struck. "Have – Have you come to kill me the way you have my friends?"

Nott narrowed her eyes. "They aren't dead. I stunned them. I plan on killing you two and using the memory charm on your friends, to erase the rubbish that mutant told them."

"He is not a mutant," Hermione announced firmly. "He never was."

"Step aside," ordered Nott. "Don't make me kill you first."

Hermione's lips began to quiver. "You don't have to do this. You can put your wand down and walk away. We can sort this out, like proper Aurors."

"Don't use that psychological, Muggle bullshit on me," he spat.

"What happened to you?" she furthered, dumbfounded. "What happened to the Theodore Nott I once knew? What happened to the boy who sat near me in Muggle Studies?"

Nott sighed with impatience. "He was a pathetic, loathsome child."

"No," she disagreed, growing calmer by the second. "But he did grow into a pathetic, loathsome man."

"Five points for Gryffindor," Nott added melodically. "Enough side-tracking. Step aside. You will get your turn once I'm done with him."

Hermione stood her ground. "If you want to hurt him, you will have to go through me."

A poisonous laugh escaped Nott's lips. "What are you? His bodyguard?" His laughs made her sick. "Shame that such a beautiful young woman has fallen in line with Death Eater scum."

"The only scum I see is you."

"Is that what you were thinking when I slid my fingers inside you and felt the walls of your warm, wet core tighten with pleasure?"

It was worse than any torture she had ever experienced. Hermione felt fresh tears surface around her eyes. She tried her hardest to hold them back. She couldn't look weak. Not in front of him. Not then.

"…_I'll f-fucking…kill…you_," cursed Draco, having heard the entire exchange.

Nott peered around, laughing some more. "He's awake. Splendid. Makes this all the more interesting."

"You're sick," breathed Hermione, slowly shaking her head.

"Tell me," began Nott, awfully chipper considering the circumstances. "Did he make you come faster, or did I?"

Hermione seethed with rage. "Fuck you."

"Me? Sure. I had plans of giving you another go, anyway."

"I wouldn't come near you for all the riches in the world," she spat. "You disgust me."

He quickly directed his wand to her forehead. "Or I could just kill you now."

"Go ahead," she challenged. "I'll fight you off with everything I have."

Nott chortled with amusement. "What's that? Some good old true grit?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Yes," she agreed, squeezing something in the palm of her left hand. Nott opened his mouth to release another sarcastic remark, no doubt, but the words were stuck in his throat. He choked, staring at her with eyes the size of Galleons.

There was something wet between them. Hermione glanced down and saw blood spewing from the place that she had driven that sharp piece of wood through his chest. It was like a crimson fountain.

"Funny," she whispered to his ear. "Your core is just as wet and just as warm." Nott spat out a mouthful of blood that had flowed its way up his throat, and without a care in the world, Hermione backed away…watching as her tormentor fell to his knees and then to the floor – dead.

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading this far. It means a lot. As you can probably tell, this is very, very close to the end. Once again, thank you. It means a lot. I've never had this much fun writing fanfiction, and although it's not necessary, I would love some feedback :)  
**


	12. Chapter 12 (The End)

_**Six Months Later **_

A slow rhythm of music played in the background, whilst hundreds of guests swayed back and forth on the dance floor. There was a full moon in the night sky, surrounded by thousands of glittering stars. The wedding had been gorgeous and the night equally so. It was still young and full of possibilities, but for some reason Hermione just couldn't focus.

"Something on your mind?" asked Ron, taking a seat beside her.

She forced a smile. "Nothing. I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

"It's been a long year," he regarded, taking a sip of Elvish Wine. "Would you like some? I brought you one."

Normally, Hermione wasn't much of a drinker but there was no way she would pass up an opportunity to dull her senses. She took the glass of wine and drank. "This is good."

"I think it's from France," he shrugged, examining the liquid.

"Do we have anything stronger?"

Ron arched an eyebrow, flashing her one of those looks. "You sure there's nothing on your mind?"

Hermione finished off her wine. "There may be something."

"These days I'm much better at listening. Harry says so all the time."

She couldn't help but smile – for real this time. "It – It's stupid but – I – I can't stop –"

"It's about him, isn't it?" asked Ron, sounding rather sympathetic.

Hermione sighed. She had prevented herself from speaking about him since their return. "I can't stop thinking about him. You don't have to say a word. I already know it's pathetic of me."

"Pathetic? Not a chance." Ron took another sip. "I mean, I won't deny the fact that I felt a little jealous when I realized what had happened but…" His eyes shifted to hers. "I trust your judgment."

That was more than she could have ever asked from Ron. Perhaps he had grown. "Do – Do you think he used me?"

"For?"

Hermione gave him an obvious look. "Sex."

"Oh." A strange, borderline awkward expression tugged at Ron's facial features. "I hadn't realized it had gone that – Erm – no." He exhaled. "I don't think he used you."

"What makes you say that?"

Ron set down his glass. "Back in the Manor, when Harry and I had found him, he told us something. He told us he loved you."

Hermione pressed her back against the chair, beyond surprised. "That makes no sense," she thought aloud. "Why would he say that and then prevent me from visiting him?"

"Maybe he wants space to heal," suggested Ron. "I'm not a fan of the bloke but he has been through a lot. I spoke to a Healer recently and they said the adjustment period for such extreme transfiguration can take months – sometimes years."

Years. That didn't sound good. Hermione sighed. "I suppose I'm being selfish."

"You're worried. It's normal."

"Since when did you become such an expert on romance?"

Ron played it off. "I've learned a few things since we broke up."

Hermione laughed. "Better late than never."

"Hey, now. I was a damn good boyfriend."

"You had your moments," she smiled, thinking back. "I'm sorry we couldn't make it work, but I'm glad we're friends."

"Me too," he agreed, rather quickly. "That was the most difficult part about before. I just didn't see you – for months. It was strange."

Hermione shared that sentiment. "Thank you, by the way. Thank you for everything you did that night and continue to do."

"I've been meaning to ask," he started. "How have you been?"

"Me? Erm. Fine."

"Fine?" Ron repeated. "I know we're not nearly as close as we were before but you know I'm here if you ever need to talk about what happened."

She knew what he was speaking of, and had barely spent a moment thinking about it on her own. It was more painful than she could bear. "I'm safe and I'm healthy, and that's good enough for me."

Several moments passed and Ron seemed to accept her dismissal, as he pointedly fixed his attention on the music and dance floor. "What do you say? Up for a dance?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I…I don't know."

"Come on. You've been sitting around all night. Get up and show some moves."

She smiled. "Fine, but you can't step on my toes this time."

"I've been practicing since Bill and Fleur's," he furthered. "I promise."

The pair of them made their way to the dance floor, alongside the newlywed couple and danced to the up-tempo music. It was a track off the Weird Sisters' latest album, and the wedding guests positively loved it.

Ron had gotten better at dancing. He learned to keep a beat and went so far as to give Hermione a dip. She erupted in a fit of giggles, having been taken by surprise, and felt her cheeks burn with an amused sort of embarrassment as the guests formed a circle around them and clapped.

It felt like old times, for a fleeting moment, and she felt light and free and unbound. Hermione closed her eyes as Ron twirled her around the dance floor, opening them the moment the music changed.

It went from fast to slow and sensuous.

"Was that fun?" he asked, offering her his arm.

She nodded, unaware that he had led her away from the party until they stepped out onto a balcony in Harry and Ginny's home at Godric's Hollow. They had a large home and the wedding was in their backyard – mirroring that of Bill and Fleur's.

Hermione glanced around. "Why are we here?"

"I have a surprise for you," explained Ron. "Close your eyes."

She reluctantly did so, wondering if Ron had gotten the wrong message by their conversation and subsequent dance. It definitely wasn't a situation she wanted to deal with, but Hermione had no time to speak. She opened her mouth and instantly felt a pair of lips meet with her own.

They were soft, yet firm, and carried the scent of someone very, very familiar. The young woman pulled away and opened her eyes to find a pair of silvery grey orbs staring back at her. She didn't know what to think. "Why – How are you here?"

Draco took her hand in his and held it to his lips. "I came to see you." He was dressed in elegant black dress robes and had his hair placed neat – but not too neat – to the side. He looked mind numbingly handsome, standing there with the moonlight cascading over his shoulders and his eyes so deep and full of vigor. "By the looks of it, you don't want to see me…"

"No, no, no." Hermione's heart bounced in her chest. "I'm just – I'm confused. Shouldn't you be in St. Mungo's?"

"I was released from St. Mungo's this morning," he explained. "Ron arranged for me to meet you here. I believe he had to bribe his sister for an invitation."

"Wait. Are you telling me you're Ron's plus-one?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well, if you want to put it that way…"

Hermione giggled. "I'm teasing," she said, pulling him in for another kiss, as if to convince herself the moment was real. "So…what's going to happen?"

He held her in his arms, as tight as was comfortable. "Tonight is my last night as a free man. I'm being tried tomorrow, in front of the entire Wizengamot, and I'll inevitably find myself a one-way ticket to Azkaban." His arms quivered during the last bit. "I know I've been distant from you these past several months, but I just had to see you before – before they send me off."

Hermione wanted nothing more than to convince him he wouldn't go anywhere near Azkaban prison. She wanted to hold him and bring him to her flat and take him to all her favourites places – but that sort of romance had never been in their cards. It had always been an all or nothing situation, and leaving the Manor meant the latter.

"I'll work on your case day and night," she promised, blinking away the tears. "I won't stop until you're free."

"Please, don't do that to yourself." There was a hitch in Draco's voice. "I want you to forget about me. I want you to put the past behind you. I want you to move on from what happened, and I want you to be happy."

She brushed his words off. "Rubbish. You're innocent. You had no control over –"

"I killed thirty-six innocent people, Hermione. That doesn't sound very innocent to me."

The young woman fell silent. She had heard that number come from Harry's lips, months ago. It left her in the same limbo she had felt in the Manor, that first day. "It was Nott's doing. You wouldn't have touched a soul had he not cursed you."

"But they don't know that. Nott's dead, remember?"

She remembered, clear as day. "Good riddance."

"Without his confession, the truth is useless."

"What about the pensieve? What about your memories?"

"I know what they'll say," he assured her. "_Memories can be altered_. Blah. Blah. Blah."

Hermione sighed with frustration. "You're not trying."

"Why should I try?" he asked, pulling away. "This is what I deserve."

"I don't care what you think you deserve," she said sharply. "I'm not going to sit here and allow you to rot away in Azkaban. I will do something and I will see to it that you're freed."

Draco knew it was a pointless argument. Once Hermione made her mind up about something, it was game over. He held her, swaying to the background music, trying his best to preserve the moment. "You're a real fighter. Has anyone told you that?"

"Probably," she mumbled, burying her face into his chest. "But I only fight for the right causes."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Hermione smiled weakly. "This is so bittersweet."

"I know," he agreed, running his hands through her hair. "We may not have the future, but at least we have this moment." Draco cupped her cheeks and tilted her face towards his. They kissed, in a melody of heartache and desire. A Muggle song played in the background. It was unfamiliar to Hermione but the rhythm and the words fell in perfect step with their movements.

They swayed together, kissing and hoping and breathing for a chance. It was the most she had ever felt in such a short period of time – but the way her mind and body gravitated to this man spoke words even she didn't know. Hermione parted from the kiss, breathing back the tears and grabbing at his dress robes.

Draco responded by running his hands along her sides and the small of her back. He couldn't keep his eyes off. She was breathtaking. Her dress was long and light, made of chiffon in multiple shades of blue, and she wore her hair up in a sleek knot.

"I don't want to leave you," he breathed slowly, swaying with her.

"Stay," she pleaded. "Please."

Draco released a heavy sigh. "I – I can't run anymore. I need to be the type of man who is worthy of a woman like you, Hermione – and even then, even after I get sent to Azkaban for my wrongdoings, I still won't deserve you."

She thought back to what Ron had told her, feeling the sting of reality. "You are that man. You have nothing to prove to me, Draco. Please don't think you have to go to Azkaban for me."

"I am doing it for you," he started. "For you, my mother, my father and myself." There was a change in his voice when he mentioned his parents. He missed them more than words could describe. "I need to do this. I need to."

Hermione didn't like the idea of giving up. She was a fighter from the beginning and she would fight for this. She would fight for Draco and his family. "I'll visit you whenever possible."

"I would love that," he whispered. "But I can't be selfish anymore."

"I'm the one who's being selfish." She looked up at him. "Just say the words and I'll run with you. I know where the Ministry can't find us."

Draco held her tight. "I'm sorry."

They kept dancing, fading into the music and stars. Hermione knew it would be the last time she'd feel his body against hers and hear his voice speak her name. It didn't matter how many hours she spent fighting for his freedom. Facts are facts, and that fact is he killed innocent people. Azkaban was his only future.

"Come," she said, breaking away. "Let's go somewhere else."

"Hermione, you know I –"

"I mean let's go to a different room."

Draco silenced, following her as she held his hand and led them away from the balcony, away from the celebrations, and up the stairs. They entered one of the guest rooms, with Hermione's things placed on the desk and near the bed. She had been staying with Harry and Ginny for the duration of their wedding festivities, with the rest of the family.

They fell onto the bed, Draco on top, in slow motion. He held his weight with both arms and bent down, placing feather light kisses on her lips, nose and forehead.

"I want to do this right," he spoke softly.

Hermione arched her back to give him room as he unzipped her dress. It loosened, but remained on, and they kissed some more. Amidst their newfound exploration, she unbuttoned the top half of his dress robes and pushed them from his shoulders, to reveal a physicality she had never seen. There was nothing wrong with the way he had looked before, but to see the real Draco for the first time was everything she had envisioned - and then some.

He was beautiful.

His skin, the colour of ivory, was soft yet firm around the curvature of his muscles. He had a swimmer's body and she realized, looking at him, that, that was a very, very good thing.

Draco had a slight smirk on his face when she began to blush, and pulled her upright, across from him, to allow her dress the room to fall. It rested around her waist and as they continued to kiss, his hands rubbed along the small of her back, up her sides and to her bare breasts.

She shivered, releasing a gentle moan. He had never touched her so delicately – and even as his movements were tender and sweet, they carried the same undeniable passion as their previous intimacies. Draco glanced down as she touched the rim of the trousers.

Hermione gave him a look as to confirm her truest desires, and without further communication, Draco pushed his trousers down and slowly met with her in a dance of the purest devotion.

Her moans echoed in the space between them, caught in between his deep expulsions of air. He made love to her, with long, drawn out thrusts between her parted legs. Her dress remained around her waist, where he grabbed hands full of the fabric, trying desperately to contain the animal within.

She panted for breath, feeling her body give in to the inevitable. It was the most she had felt since their last time together, and it was a moment she would look back on forever. Hermione tilted her head back in ecstasy and called out his name – feeling the rapturous chills of just one second with Draco Malfoy.

Her chest rose and fell, uncontrollably, as she gasped for air. It was happening.

His thrusts grew quicker and with a loss of control, harder than either of them had anticipated.

Draco went low for a kiss and felt his body shake as his final thrust drove both of them into a permanent state of complete and utter abandonment. In that moment, the pair of them realized they were hopelessly, wildly, recklessly in love.

The End.

**A/N: Thank you so much for making it this far! I know it's not the ending we hoped for, but just because this story is over, doesn't mean there can't be another. **

**Love you guys! Make sure to leave a review and tell me what you like/dislike. **

**xo**

**[Extras] Hermione's emerald green dress is the one Keira Knightly wore in Atonement. Her blue chiffon dress is the one Grace Kelly wore in To Catch a Thief. Also, the song playing when Hermione and Draco danced together at the wedding is "A Drop in the Ocean" by Ron Pope. **


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